The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1887-03-16

| of my own head. They are my own. And
| you mark them all over have torn the
paper up. l viii never write any mere
| Neyerl"
Just because it was Your own and I saw
rare promise in 1t, therefore l took pains to
| show YOU its faults You use too much orna-
mentatloa. You initiate without knowing
it, other poets You have read. You must learn
| to be yourself Come here Shirley
She obeyed, with downcast face.
MY dear pupil, would rather go away
| from Linwood altogether than 70 hurt YOU or
offend you But / am your teacher. Don't
! you think, child, know better than Your
"Oh, YES, Mr.. Morrison, l know that You
have taught me about more things than
ever knew in the world l owe everything
to you"
And you viii trust me for the future. win
you notla he said.
He put one strong hand softly against each
pink cheek and lifted her face. He looked
down at her with his black-gray eyes, eyes so
like her own. and said
Dear girl, you do not know how much you
have been 70 me. | hated mankind when |
came here. There was not living creature
/ cared for, or who cared for me. You and
your father showed me there was still truth
and honest feeling in the world, bless your
sweet sunny soull When l go away, what
ever trouble is stil TO come, l shall know |
have had some true friends, some hours that
were happy. You are the best, truest, bright
est creature l ever met. Would l wound
your tender soul by so much as a word, do
you thinkl You are the only one-Shirley,
you are capable Of great things. If 1 can
judge of anything, the time will come when
all the world win praise you. You viii write
as no woman ever did before. l know that
You viii show all men the sweet, deep, mar
velous strength that lies in a woman's brain.
believe in that, and believe in you Your
verses win not be feeble and muddy and mar
row-the kind most women write. Yours
wlu be the grand, ringing lines of humanity
and free womanhood. Because / know this,
let me give you such hints as / may, child
VIII you do this and forgive meT'
Her lips quivered, but she was always ready
TO confess an error-the frank, true child
She said:
"You are very, very good, Mr.. Morrison;
and | was wrong and foolish. l win do my
best and never give you trouble again. For
give me, dear MASTER
Il will bring you a woman's poem and read
it to you tomorrow, Shirley" he said.
"Gather your little Carstones, and we shall
the willows by the mill race. viii read you
Aurora Leigh Good night, child
He laid his hand caressingly upon her head
and slid it down softly over one of the fair
braids Did he press the long, fair braid to
his lips as he turned to go? Well, who knowss
Shirley did not know.
It was their last quarrel.
From that day a new end tenderer tie
seemed to draw them together. The picnics,
as the children called them, lasted all through
the bright summer days. In the winter there
were picnics indoors The teacher had
seemed soured and reserved when he came to
Linwood. He had bitter, sarcastic tongue
when disturbed, which had drawn on him i'll
win at first. But that had changed. He had
become gentle and genial. He established a
literary society among the rustics, the first
one ever in the village. It was turning the
thoughts of the younger people in 1. better
and higher direction.
He and Shirley read and studied history,
poetry and science. He taught her Greek
and Latin, prose ard poetry. The girl. like
himself had the rare faculty of grasping
thought in a glance. A few words upon its
page would tell its whole story to her clear,
alert brain. They were days of perfect hap
piness and peace But the girls thoughts
came back always TO Joan of Arc, the Maid
of Domremy, the saint and martyr with the
iron helmet pressing upon her golden hair
1t was like the motive in work Of music
She wrote little poems still, but now the
master criticised them no more. Some had
been printed. They had been copied and re-
copied, and went floating through the news
papers like beautiful waits Shirley was be
ginning to be known already as poet of no
common order.
"Shirley, you must write the best poem of
your life for US next month, ;" said the presi-
dent of the literary society. at is our last
meeting Of the year; you are appointed for
the poem for the public entertainment. Our
literary society has such a name now that we
must do something uncommon"
eyes" said the executive committeeman,
spectators viii come in from half the county.
Linwood must keep up her reputation. Lin
wood foreveri"
The evening came, and Shirley read her
poem. She surpassed all former efforts. Be
side her, as she read, was vase Of white
rosebuds rare and costly, Of kind unknown
in Linwood. 1t was the masters gift to bis
best pupil
Mrs. Simpkins, her fast friend, told the
story of her triumph TO every stranger that
came TO the village.
@'Twas a night Linwood'H never forget. /
Y,
and practiced her on her readin' till it was
that material YOU couldn't ha' told she wasn't
talkin' it of out Of her own head She was
the beautifulest ereetur' you ever laid eyes on.
She looked for all the world like an angel,
standin' there dressed in snow white fusion
And her speechi Lands sakel 1t sounded
like the organ Playin' Gather at tho River
when Sunday school lets out. 1t was Just
that beautiful When she got done, and
made her bow, there was a mint of dead
hush, like before the benediction in church.
Then the people all fell to as they couldn't
help themselves, and such clappin' and
cheerin' was never heerd in Linwood before
nor since. 'Peared as though they would
take the girl and carry her of on their
hands then and there. Shirley, she Just
blushed and looked that pretty till you felt
you'd ike to bite her. She turned her eyes
this way and that, as if she'd like to hide,
till her eyes lit on the master. He was sitting
on the stage, with the Presbyterian minister
and the doctor. He hadn't cheered her at
all. but looked sober and set right still But
when Shirley looked at him, with the crowd
a cIappin' and clappin', he Jest reached
across and shook her hand, quiet and gentle
man ike. He was a little pale and serious,
ike he had pain or something You could
see how pleased he was, though, with his eyes
a shinin' But he never said word
@Wben the noise died away little the
Presbyterian minister he got up and waved
his hand for 'en to be still Then be SAYS:
-'Ladies and gentlemen-I am requested
by the Linwood Literary society to close the
exercises Of the evenin' by a little ceremony
not down in the regyler programme A little
surprise has been prepared for the poet of the
evenin', a young lady whom we all honor.
On behalf of the LinwoOd Literary. society.
as token Of their high appreciation. l am
requested to present this wreath of silver
laurel leaves to Miss Shirley Carstone. Fame
may wreathe her brow with evergreens in
after years, but she will never forget the in
scription here, Linwood crowns her poet, -
sIt said just that:
Linwood crowns her poet
~Then you ought to have heerci the noiset
IG was wussn revival ueetinss
But there was something good Mrs. Simp-
kins did not tell. She did not tell it because
she did not know it. Women generally keep
secret under similar circumstances
When Shirley, half in dream, looked at
her crown and her flowers that night at home.
she found a little card among the white rose
buds The card said:
THE master learns from his pupil.
{To BE CONTINUED